


It's The Thought That Counts

by fansbyproducts (sisaat)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Fails At Cooking, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisaat/pseuds/fansbyproducts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil attempts to bring Carlos breakfast in bed, but the wheat-free pancakes prove more challenging than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Thought That Counts

Cecil glared down at the wheat-free pancake. The batter still looked liquid, but smoke rising from underneath told him it was burning. The cooking wasn’t progressing the way the YouTube tutorial demonstrated. He tried to flip it, but it just broke in two and splattered down on the pan, only a small section remaining on his spatula. Cecil took in a slow, steadying breath.

He flipped the part he had managed to lift around and hastily rearranged the other piece of his pancake to try and merge both together before the batter solidified. The mound formed by the broken-off piece of pancake was sticking to the pan and refused to be flattened and repositioned. He added more oil, but it didn’t improve the situation. Cecil angrily scrapped it off and dumped it onto the pile of his previous failures that filled the plate next to the oven.

His boyfriend was a scientist, which made him kind of a scientist too, and pancakes were basically science. You mix together the ingredients, apply heat and wait for the proper reactions to transform batter into breakfast. It was simple and should have allowed Cecil to bring Carlos breakfast in bed for the scientist’s first morning waking up here, at his boyfriend’s apartment. Cecil had spent the night at Carlos’s place several times, but this time Cecil had dared invite Carlos home for the night and he had agreed. Cecil wanted to make this special.

Time for plan B. He had a box of waffles in the freezer. He just needed to put them in the toaster and Carlos never needed to know about his failed attempt at pancakes. He would keep that between him, the Faceless Old Women, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police. He just needed to get rid of the evidence.

“Cecil?” a voice thick with sleep asked from behind him. “Is everything okay? I smelled something burning.”

Cecil froze, plate of shapeless, burned yet half-cooked pancakes in hands, as Carlos walked into the kitchen while sleepily rubbing his eyes. He could probably have dumped the pancakes into the trash can before Carlos slipped on the glasses he was holding in his hand, but he got distracted by staring at how absolutely lovely Carlos looked this morning, with his perfect hair artfully mussed and one eye open only a crack, showing just a peek of the exquisite dark eye still clouded with the veil of sleep.

“Uh huh?” he answered, rather uselessly.

“Are you cooking?” Carlos asked once his glasses put the world back into focus.

“I…” Cecil’s shoulders slumped and it takes significant effort to keep the rest of his body from following, flesh and bones sinking down until he was merely a puddle on the floor. “I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh. That’s really nice, Cecil. I’m sorry I’m not in bed anymore, but it’s not too late for the breakfast part.”

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” he said, looking down at the shapeless mass in the plate he was still holding. “I’m afraid I wasn’t successful. I’m a failure of a scientist’s boyfriend. I could not even produce a satisfactory breakfast.”

“Cecil,” Carlos, perfect Carlos, said gently. He walked across the kitchen to rest his hand on Cecil’s cheek. “You went through the trouble of preparing breakfast for me. That, itself, makes it more than satisfactory.”

“Oh, Carlos. Perfect Carlos. Let me just get rid of this and I’ll make you waffles.”

“No, no, this is fine!” Carlos took the plate of would-be pancakes from his hands, brought it to the kitchen table and settled down.

“You don’t have to do that! Improperly cooked pancakes might be hazardous.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Carlos says with the brilliant, perfect smile that had made him fall in love instantly over a year ago.

Cecil sighed, picked a fork and some maple-flavored imaginary corn syrup and joined his scientist boyfriend at the table. He sat down to stare despondently at the plate. Carlos smiled at him, poured syrup over the mess and dug his fork into it. To his credit, he only hesitated a moment before shoving some some of the Pancake Failure into his mouth. His face was carefully blank as he chewed for a long time and swallowed with difficulty.

Cecil fetched him a glass of carrot juice, the closest thing he found to orange juice. It was orange, and it was juice, which made it orange juice and so suitable to accompany his breakfast now that citrus couldn’t be trusted anymore. Carlos took a long sip to wash down the pancake mush, then smiled at Cecil again.

“Thank you for getting up early to make me breakfast. I appreciate it.”

Cecil felt the heat rise to his cheeks and he was, once more, at a loss for words, so he beamed at his perfect Carlos instead. It took a lot more syrup and a few glasses of orange carrot juice, but the scientist cleaned the plate.


End file.
